Borderline
by ApolloBringsJustice
Summary: Alfred, Antonio, Arthur and Matthew must team up during WW3! What hardships do they face and can they make it out alive? Rating will change and please R/R!
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: So, u-uhm... I need reviews guys! Please, I'm desperate XDDD Anyway uhm... This is a bit wierd, uploading stuff here. I'm not sure how good I am, but CRITISIZE ME TO DEATH. PLEASE. -cough- So anyway... THIS CHAPTER TURNED OUT ALOT SHORTER THAN EXPECTED TAT ... I was like, 'WOOT, WROTE A LONG CHAPTER-Awh, dammit...' But if I even find this to be WORTH continuing I PROMISE THE CHAPTERS WILL GET LONGER AND MORE INTERESTING. I SWEAR. PLEASE BELIEVE ME. A-ahem... Anyway... Uh... I guess I'll go away now... -slowly fades away-**

**XXX**

World Conference meetings. Of course the events that occur at such a 'meeting' appose any law of humanity and manners, to such a point that even the people causing these events to take place see how obnoxious they really are.

Arthur stood at the front of the room, pointer in hand, using the object to motion to different countries on a large map as he spoke. "As you can see-..." the man cut himself off, scowling as he glared over at a certain sandy blonde haired nation. Alfred, who seemed to have drifted off into a lucid state in the middle of the Englishman's speech. He angrily aimed his pointer at the other before speaking. "At the end of this pointer is an impudent idiot." he stated simply.

As if on cue, the American's eyes blinked open and the blue orbs turned to stare up into the bright green ones belonging to Arthur. "Excuse me, Eyebrows?" he asked in an immature manner, though such a response was aptly fitting to Alfred's personality, just as a nickname like 'Eyebrows' was quite fitting to Arthur's... Well, eyebrows. "Which end of the pointer are you referring to again?"

"The end that's about to be shoved up your ass if you don't stop with your cocky remarks." Arthur replied smartly, whacking the other on the top of the head for good measure.

A different nation, with long blonde locks and indigo eyes raised his hand before piping in. "U-uhm... I don't think w-we should b-be f-fighting, eh..." he muttered softly, though the other bickering blondes didn't pay the Canadian any mind as they yelled random arguments toward each other.

"Boys, boys!" a Frenchman exclaimed, standing up and walking over to both Arthur and Alfred. "Mon Dieu! Calm yourselves, there is no need for such bickering!" he exclaimed through his thick accent. Using both hands, he pinched the nations' cheeks. "You two are much too cute for such dirty talking, oui?"

Arthur swatted the other's hand away from his face. "Don't. Touch. Me." he replied, the tone in those words alone practically explaining his abhorred opinion toward the Frenchman themselves. "Bloody hell don't you touch me Francis, or I swear to God you'll be sent right into rigor mortis within two seconds. And don't you think it won't be painful." he stated, glaring at the other with bright green eyes.

Alfred simply spluttered, rendered silent by the hatred the Briton had been able to mix in with such a small amount of speech.

"You are just too cute L'Angleterre!" Francis replied, smiling as if he hadn't heard a single word of what Arthur had just said. He reached over and ruffled the shorter man's hair, messing it up a bit.

"Shut the fuck up, asshole." Arthur spat back, grabbing the other's wrist tightly to stop the stroking motions he could feel atop his head. "I said don't touch me."

Alfred smirked and stared at Arthur. "Someone's in a bit of a bad mood today." he stated, sticking his tongue out at the other.

"Go to hell!" Arthur retorted, reaching over to grab a lock of the other's dark blonde hair to pull at. Francis grabbed England's wrist before he could do such a thing. "Let go of my wrist, you ass!" he yelled at the other. Alfred was snickering to himself about the whole situation, which pissed Arthur off even more.  
At this point a few of the nations who hadn't been involved in the pointless bickering had just stood up and left. A tall tan nation with wavy dark hair and bright green eyes stood up and slammed his hand down on the table. "Guys! This is so pointless! Why can't we just get on with this instead of fighting pointlessly?" he exclaimed in a thick Spanish accent. A few of the other nations nodded in agreement. The nation continued. "We DO have work to do and we DO have a crisis going on! Now, I may not usually be the most serious one here, but we have a war going on here! If we just stand around fighting over nothing with our OWN allies, how are we going to beat anyone else?"

This made Francis let go of England, and both the British man and Alfred hung their heads down in shame. "Antonio is correct..." Arthur stated sullenly. "We should be talking about the issue of the moment as we had been, and I apologize for my acts of immaturity..."

Alfred nodded. "I'm sorry too..." he stated simply, walking back to his seat and seating himself. Francis silently did the same.

Arthur cleared his throat. "As I was saying, Russia and China's bomb threats were no joke, and they've already hit and damaged many countries below the equator. Considering that we have so many countries of neutral status at this point, it's our chance to gain allies." he explained. "Any questions so far?"

Of course, Alfred's hand shot up into the air, and he waved it to gain attention, as if in second grade.

England rolled his eyes and simply ignored the American's hand. "None? Good, let's move on-"

"I have a question!" Alfred yelled loudly, interrupting the other. "Why are we wasting our time looking for more allies when we should be helping the nations that were already on our side before they got hurt? The neutrals are neutrals, we can worry about them later, but we are already sided with some very capable and strong countries. Ones we should be HELPING."

England was awestruck at the fact Alfred had said something so... Well... Logical. A few of the nations turned and stared at the American, looking like they were holding themselves back from screaming, "HOLY SHIT ALFRED WAS JUST LOGICAL. IT'S THE APOCALYPSE."

Luckily, none of them did.

"Well Alfred, looking around the room you'll notice there is only about nine of us. Russia and China have many countries on their side and-"

"We'd have more if we tried helping." Alfred stated simply, cutting England off yet again. "If we just helped our other allies then-"

"Then there'd only be about twelve of us still. But if we get more allies first then we can help the other's later." England retorted. "Russia and China have already beaten us in the number of allies they have. Even if we help the injured countries we still can't out beat them."

Alfred scowled at Arthur, glaring at him. "This has nothing to do with quantity. This is about sticking together and fighting our best. Even if we have half the world on our side, if they're all injured and feel like shit then we're gonna lose. That's that."

England stared at the other. He had nothing to say to that. Absolutely nothing. Because well... It was true. All of what America had just stated was absolutely true. "Well... Wh-whatever..." Arthur stuttered, not sure how to reply to the other.

"Not whatever Arthur! What's your plan? Are you just gonna-... G-gonna... Gck..." Alfred's speech slowed until it came to a stop. He went pale and England, along with the other nations stared at the American with concern.

"Alfred, a-are you alright...?" England asked the other softly, taking a step towards him.

Alfred closed his eyes and shook his head slowly, leaning forward. "N-no..." he choked out.

"W-well what's wrong...?" Arthur asked worriedly as he stared at the other in a concerned manner. He made his way over to the American and knelt down next to him, placing a hand on his back.

Alfred made a struggled noise in the back of his throat, but did not properly respond to the other's question. A cough escaped his lips and he could see his surroundings becoming blurry, black spots slowly engulfing his vision, untill everything simply went black.

**XXX**

**OH. OH GOD. PLEASE DON'T HATE ME FOR MY LACK OF WRITING SKILL, I WILL GET BETTER I PROMISE. A-anyway, the rating WILL change as this gets more interesting and in depth... But... Yeah. PLEASE REVIEW I WILL GIVE YOU INTERNET COOKIES IF YOU DOOOOOO.**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: I. Got. Reviews. :D YOU GUYS HAVE NO IDEA HOW HAPPY THAT MAKES ME. I can't believe I actually got reviews XD Even if I didn't get many, I was SO thrilled! Yeah, okay, Christopher Columbus sailed the ocean blue, and sure, Neil Armstrong landed on the moon, whatever. I GOT REVIEWS ON MY HETALIA FANFICTION. XDDD So, uhm… I'd be happy if you guys bare with me. This WILL get interesting. Soon. I promise. XD I'm just horrible at getting the ball rolling… BUT I SWEAR I AM TRYING….**

**XXX **

Alfred's eyes slowly fluttered open as he came to. He found he was laying on a rather comfortable surface, a bed. This however, was most definitely NOT his room. Confused, he scanned the area for some indication of where he had settled. Wherever he was, it sure was old fashioned. The floor was made up of wooden planks, and the wall made up of wooden panels. In other words, if you were to take this place in from Alfred's perspective, you would simply think; Wood. Everywhere.

The American noticed he felt slightly dizzy, and he sat up, then feeling slightly light headed too. He could make out bits of a conversation going on outside the door, but he was unsure of the basis of the dialogue, considering he had slept through it.

"-And that's that? We've already lost enough allies in this, you think we can just let him go too?" a familiar voice exclaimed. By the tone and accent, Alfred was able to infer that had been England speaking.

"We aren't LOSING him, Arthur. It's not a life or death situation! We just need you to depart to China before anything else happens, and we don't have time to deal with the injured at this point." another voice retorted. He wasn't quite sure whom this voice belonged to. The one thing Alfred was sure of was that the man had one heck of a Scottish accent. It must have been one of England's brothers or something.

"What if it was you?" the British man exclaimed. "You'd want to go... If we tried to leave you here you... Well, you just wouldn't stand for that!"

"Arthur, I honestly don't care if you take the boy." the other man replied. "All I'm gonna say is that if he slows you down or gets hurt, nobody is gonna come rescue you. We have our own jobs."

"Whatever... Just... Go. Whatever." England replied grumpily toward the other man. Within a matter of seconds, Alfred watched as the door opened and the Englishman entered the room.

"What's going on?" was the first thing Alfred asked the other. Arthur stared blankly at the American, frowning.

"Your country Alfred..." England began. "Well it was... Attacked. Bombed..."

Alfred gaped at the other, not sure how to take that in. "What...?" he asked. His surprised reaction slowly developed into anger, and he tightly gripped his bed sheets to hold back his dreaded emotions. "I fucking knew it... Damn commie bastard, oh I swear I'll-"

"Language Alfred." Arthur replied. "Look, it's not like they hit a lot of your country, only a chunk of the Southern regions."

"Who CARES how little or how much they hit?" yelled Alfred. "They still goddamn bombed America! Me!" he exclaimed, his affluent anger showing itself. "They shouldn't be fucking doing this! To anyone!"

"I know..." Arthur replied in a placid manner. "Which is why we're going to go to them ourselves and check out whatever they're doing with their weaponry, and maybe even see why they're doing this."

"And let me guess. You're leaving me here because I'm injured. Right?" Alfred asked with disdain.

"No Alfred. Actually I came in here for the exact opposite reason." England rejoined. "I came to ask you if you'd be willing to come and help us."

"Oh?" Alfred asked in return. "Well, duh. Of course I will." he stated, grinning goofily.

Arthur smiled back softly. "Well, good. You should... Get dressed then. And then come meet everyone." he directed, turning around and beginning to leave.

"Oh! Wait!" Alfred exclaimed after the other. "Meet you where? I-I'm not exactly sure where I am..."

"Right. We're still in the conference building. They have spare rooms here." Arthur explained. "Just go downstairs into the conference room, alright?"

Alfred nodded and watched as the other walked out. With some effort, he was able to stand, but the American was quite surprised at how hard of a time he was having performing such simple tasks, like standing and walking. But he figured that was just because, well, his country WAS bombed. He was pleased to see someone had left a pile of clean clothes for him. He changed quickly, humming to himself as he did so. After he was clothed in the clean attire, (A white shirt, jeans, and of course his favorite leather jacket,) he exited the room to find himself in the familiar hallway.

"Nng... Shit…" he groaned, the light in the hallway irritating his eyes, and causing him to acknowledge a migraine that was slowly growing in the back of his head, that he had not noticed anterior to walking out of the room he had rested in. He made his way through the hallways, into the conference room. Of course the one thing he came across as he casually walked into the meeting room was chaos. Not just any chaos. LOUD chaos. Loud enough to make the American wince and slam two hands over his ears due to the excruciating pain he could feel pulsing in his head. He tiredly walked over to his seat and plopped down into it, looking particularly miserable. Arthur seemed to notice this, and stopped his bickering with France to go check on the American. Not that this lowered the noise volume in the room by much, considering everyone else was still either fighting or talking.

"Y-you okay, Alfred...?" Arthur asked worriedly.

"Mnn..." Alfred groaned as he opened his eyes to look at the other. The room spun, and he definitely didn't think there should be two of everything. "M-me...?" he asked in a daze.

"Well I don't exactly see anyone else here looking as sick as you do. So yes, you." Arthur replied softly.

Alfred simply nodded. "I'm alr'ght..." he replied, closing his eyes and leaning back in his chair. "What're we going to do here today anyw'ys...?" he asked.

"Well, once everyone settles down we're probably assigning groups and jobs." England explained.

"Jobs...? Groups...?" Alfred asked as if he'd never heard the words before. "Oh, y'mean like... For the war and stuff? What group am I...?"

Arthur grinned at the other. "You're with me, Matthew and Antonio. We're going to go to China and maybe Russia to see just what's going on."

Alfred opened an eye and raised an eyebrow. "Antonio?" he asked. "Why is he in our group...?"

"That's just how things ended up..." Arthur stated. "Why, is something wrong with that...?"

"Well, no..." the American replied. "Its just... Out of all of us, he's so... Unfitting... If that makes any sense."

Arthur shrugged, smirking. "I guess. It's not like it matters though." he stated. "... Considering we already know our group..." the Englishman grabbed the American's hand and without another word pulled him up into a standing position. "Let's just go. Antonio, Matthew! Follow us!" he directed, motioning for those nations to follow him and the rather confused American he was dragging out the door. Antonio was he first out of both him and Matthew to catch up to the two men, the Canadian padding close behind.

"O-oh, England! What is it you need?" Antonio asked, walking alongside the British man.

"We're going to China." Arthur replied simply, grinning.

"Que...? China? N-now?" the Spanish man asked, a perplexed look on his face.

Alfred turned and gave Arthur a sharp glare. "You didn't even TELL them...?" he whispered loudly. "What if they don't wanna go?"

"G-go where...?" Matthew asked quietly, struggling to keep up with the other three nations.

"To China!" Alfred exclaimed. "Arthur are you INSANE? Ever since this war started there's been crazy border control! We can't fly there! What do you want us to do, walk?"

Arthur shrugged. "We can drive." he stated.

Alfred glared some more at the other. "No, we can't drive! I just told you, border control! W-we won't be allowed to cross any borders!"

"... Well we're still going to drive." Arthur replied. "It's the only thing we can do. We HAVE to go. Not going isn't an option..."

Alfred groaned. "Arthur sometimes you just... Annoy me to no end..."

"Back at you, Alfred." Arthur replied simply.

Alfred let out another annoyed groan, feeling his headache slowly growing worse. He blamed the other for that, even though it probably wasn't really Arthur's fault.

"S-so... Are we really going to China?" Matthew asked curiously.

"Yup. I wouldn't lie about that." Arthur stated. "You better pack well, because I have no clue what to expect, how long we'll be gone, or anything of the sort." he explained like it was nothing.

Alfred groaned. This was going to be a long trip...

REAL long.

* * *

Okay, if there was one thing Alfred hated, even MORE than packing a ton of clothes for a trip, and neatly at that due to England's expectations, it was sitting in a car for hours on end. Oh how he absolutely despised that. And when does it get worse? When you have a Spanish man in the small compact vehicle that won't shut up about ANYTHING, no matter how little of significance it had.

"Arthur..." the American groaned, obviously a bit twitchy and irritable. "Can't you drive faster...? ANY faster? Like, ALOT faster? Because I don't know how much longer I can take this..."

Arthur tapped his fingers on the steering wheel of the Jeep before speaking. "Alfred, please do keep in mind that this isn't a road trip. I wouldn't be surprised if this takes weeks actually. We are going to China, after all."

"Weeks? I can't sit in here for weeks!" Alfred exclaimed. "Come ON!"

Antonio smiled cheerily. "Oh come on now, it's not that bad! I remember one time Romano and I-"

Alfred immediately cut the other off with an icy glare, a glare that pretty much said it all. "Shut. Up." he stated sternly.

The brunette immediately shut his mouth, and stared down sullenly to the floor of the car at the other's obviously foul mood. "S-sorry..." he replied.

They drove in silence for a few more minutes, before Alfred burst out again. "Are we there NOW?" he asked.

"No." Arthur replied, keeping his composure rather well. "We're not."

"Then when?" Alfred whined. "Nnng, this is so annoying...!"

"A-Alfred..." Matthew began, turning to look at his brother from the passenger seat. "The amount of time this takes can't really be helped... Sorry..."

"I know…." Alfred mumbled, "I just can't see why we can't even try to make this more interesting…."

Arthur smirked. "What's more interesting than riding off-road in a Jeep in silence?" he asked sarcastically. "I find it to be great, the silence part being my favorite. Oh! Hey! That gives me a _great _idea Alfred! Maybe we should all play the silent game! How about that?"

Alfred raised an eyebrow. "I _hate _that game. It's stupid…" the blonde replied.

"That explains a lot about you…." Antonio mumbled quietly, smirking at his own joke but still partially hoping the other wouldn't hear him.

"I heard that dammit! What the hell is THAT supposed to mean?" the American exclaimed.

"What? Oh, nothing, nothing, don't worry about it." the Spanish man replied smoothly.

"I'll pull those damn green eyes out of your pretty little skull…." Alfred hissed, glaring at the other.

"Wow. That's harsh." Antonio replied. "Not that you'd do it, I know that."

"Both of you need to STOP." Arthur demanded. "Now. I'll kick you both out of this car in a heartbeat. Me and Matthew can manage perfectly on our own and I highly recommend you don't get on my bad side…."

"Fine, fine." Alfred replied, crossing his arms and giving Antonio a bad look. "So I guess I have a question…. There's no way we can drive from France to China. Are we going to stop somewhere at least?"

Arthur nodded. "Of course. Italy doesn't have a lot of border control, so we should be alright getting on a plane or something of the sort there."

"Oh, sweet, awesome!" Alfred exclaimed, brightening. "Can I fly it? Please, please, please?" he begged.

"Absolutely not!" Arthur replied. "I don't care what experience you have, or whatever, I'm not putting my life in your hands. _Not_."

"But Arthurrrrr!" the American whined. "I'll do good I promise! I won't kill anyone or anything, I wanna fly it! Otherwise I'll be SOOOOO bored…"

"No." Arthur replied. "I'm not allowing that and that's final."

Antonio nodded. "I'm in favor of that." he stated. "I don't really think you're capable of that Alfred, heh."

"You _would _say that…" Alfred mumbled in response to Spain's statement. "C'mon Matthew! Don't you think I should fly the plane? Don't youuu?"

Matthew laughed nervously, clearing his throat. "W-well I…. I mean I'm sure y-you could but… Eh, I think it'd be s-safer if you didn't…."

Alfred's shoulders slumped as he realized he was defeated. Well, shit. There went one fun opportunity. "You all suck…" he mumbled. "And that's official…"

**XXX**

**SO... Uhm... I beg you all yet again to leave me reviews. IT MAKES ME FEEL SO SPECIAL... I WAS FREAKING OUT WHEN I SAW I GOT THEM AND I DUNNO WHY! ^^;;;; Anyway... I don't know when the next chapter is coming, but please, give me a week AT MOST. MOST. I PROMISE I'LL TRY HARD. PLEASE LOVE ME I LOVE ALL OF YOU. Wow... I am SO desperate... **


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